


The Brightest Light

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 20's Shenanigans, Budding Author Kagami Taiga, Continued Use Of Honorifics, Eventual Romance And Feelings And Stuff, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, For Character Consistency Purposes, Great Gatsby AU, Lovesick Millionaire Aomine Daiki, M/M, Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating Is Likely To Change, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aspiring writer Kagami Taiga is invited to a glittering, roaring party thrown by his fabulously rich and well renowned, but elusive neighbour Aomine Daiki, who lives in the huge mansion directly next to him. And, shortly following their meeting, he finds himself swept up into the life and love of the mysterious millionaire à la The Great Gatsby. (Does that make Kuroko Daisy, you ask? ...Why yes, yes it does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To call the place a house seemed somehow like a terrible injustice. It was a castle, glowing and sparkling with resplendent light inside and out, overflowing with some whimsical energy, like something out of a fairy tale. Out of its enormous doors poured a muddling, deafening, throbbing wave of sound; wailing horns and stamping feet and a myriad of overlapping voices shrieking and shouting into the night. And one man, hesitating on the front steps of the colossal, shining, screaming superstructure, who was silent.

 

Kagami stood back on his heels, shoving his hands deeper in the pockets of his fastidiously ironed black dress pants, probably wrinkling them horrendously but not caring one whit for appearances. Not in the face of the madness and the fracas and the ravenous gluttony of the human spirit that flowed in a fantastical tidal wave from inside his neighbour’s home. People from all around, from all walks of life, crowded together in a massive mob, hands raised and hips swaying, with no elbow room to speak of and entirely too much to drink, filled every corner of the first and second floor of the laughably large and extravagant mansion belonging to one Aomine Daiki.

 

He’d never even laid eyes on the ever-elusive host, in all the time he’d lived directly next to him, but just earlier that evening, he had received an envelope addressed to him in slender, elegantly slanted blue penmanship, inviting him to attend one of the exorbitant, practically famed parties thrown by Mr. Aomine on an almost weekly basis. To his knowledge, he was the only one out of the dozens upon dozens of visitors to receive such an invitation...everyone else simply showed up as they pleased, it seemed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think about that, but there was most definitely something to read into in the fact that he alone had been summoned, when all the rest just passed through Aomine’s door without permission or request, of their own volition, and left just as freely at the end of the night, sometimes at the very cusp of dawn.

 

Letting out a low sigh, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to uncover the meaning behind his mysterious, singular invitation if he didn’t go inside, though being swept up into that packed, roiling chaos was a prospect he faced with equal measures of uncertainty and apprehension. Something told him that, once part of that crowd, it would be very difficult to weasel his way back out of it in one piece...or sober, for that matter. Kagami himself was not a drinker, any more than when manners or circumstances dictated, but he doubted any man or woman that walked through Aomine’s magnificent front gate left it without becoming pretty heavily intoxicated. He felt he could get drunk just by breathing the thick, steamy air rising from that mass of inebriated bodies, in fact.

 

And so it was with trepidation that he finally took a deep breath and crossed the wide threshold, his tentative footsteps stirring the drifts of glitter and confetti that littered the polished marble floor like brightly colored snowfall. His ears were already ringing with the sounds of loud, raucous laughter and music and drunken outcries of anger and hilarity and dismay; every raw, human emotion swirling in a humongous cacophony of sound. He picked out familiar faces all around, the famous and reviled interspersed throughout the crowd, and yet at the same time, he didn’t know a soul. With his considerable height he towered over the majority of the complete strangers dancing and drinking and whirling around him, and though he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, he went all but unnoticed as he weaved between them, occasionally privy to a snippet of misdirected conversation or a clap on the back from some utterly wasted man or other he’d never met in his life.

 

“Some shindig, eh?” One such person was exclaiming, looping an arm around his shoulders and flashing him a bright, rather tipsy smile as he tossed back a head of shimmering golden hair and laughed. From the look of his clean-cut, lustrous clothes and the harem of scantily clad women hanging on him from all sides, he must have been some kind of playboy entrepreneur, or something.

 

“I’m looking for the host!” Kagami tried, having to shout to be heard over the noise, shaking the man’s arm off of his shoulder and turning to face him imploringly, “Mr. Aomine, do you know where I could find him?”

 

The man’s wide smile persisted, and he jabbed a wavering finger at him, fixing his burnished but rather hazy eyes on some point slightly over his shoulder, “Ain’t nobody seen him! He’s a ghost, I think, a...a figment! He doesn’t exist!”

 

“I got an invitation from him, I live right next door!” Kagami insisted, thrusting the letter embellished in dark blue cursive at him, but the man was already turning away, saying something in a loud, sporadically pitching voice to his female companions about skinny dipping in a swimming pool of champagne as he departed.

 

Rubbing a frustrated hand over his face, Kagami started up a winding staircase teeming with throngs of giddy, boisterous guests to try to get the lay of the place from above, wondering if he would be able to pick the host out of the crowd if he had a bird’s eye view. It was his party and his house, surely quite a bit of attention should be on him? Even just locating the richest-looking, probably drunkest and gaudiest man of the bunch might help his chances considerably, he figured.

 

Once he reached the balcony overlooking what he could now see appeared to be a great marble ballroom sprawling with people of every array, he realized what a futile endeavor it really was to try to find the guy based on looks. There were several dozen candidates for the most extravagantly dressed or most drunk under the table man, several who looked like kings but were acting like children, and several that were surrounded by admiring, even worshipping groups of peers hanging on their every slurring word; any one of them could have been Aomine, and just as easily could not have been. Sighing heavily to himself, he folded his arms against the ornate white railing wrapping around the edge of the balcony, letting his hands hang loosely over the sea of shambling humanity below.

 

“Well that’s a sour face,” a man parked right next to him snickered, leaning an elbow against the same railing, narrow silver eyes dancing with amusement and intoxication beneath his jet black bangs.

 

“Takao,” the man’s taller companion admonished from beside him, sporting a shock of green hair swept back in a neat swath and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a lacy cravat tucked under his chin, which he adjusted with one hand cloaked in a pristine white glove, “Don’t be a nuisance, the man clearly does not want to be bothered.”

 

“I’m just saying!” the man called Takao chortled, breaking into a rather feisty grin, “It’s a party, not a funeral, he should lighten up and try to have some fun!”

 

“I don’t suppose either of _you_ know where I might find the host,” Kagami muttered, self-consciously pulling at his tie which was feeling entirely too tight at the moment.

 

“The guy called Aomine?” Takao asked, perking with interest, just as his companion opened his mouth, “Nah, nobody ever sees him. I hear he’s a real medieval villain, though, people say he took over a whole dynasty singlehandedly and stole the crown of some foreign prince, that’s where he got all his money from. And _some_ say --”

 

“Only rumors, of course,” the green-haired man interrupted, hitting Takao over the head with what looked like a menu or setlist, clenched conspicuously in his fist, “A good deal of Mr. Aomine’s reputation is shrouded in mystery; very little about him is known for certain. But I do not believe he is the petty killer or swindler or bootlegger many claim he is. I believe he is a sophisticated gentleman, and it is his considerable good fortune that has led to his wealth.”

 

“Everything’s about _fortune_ and _luck_ with you, Shin-chan,” Takao complained in what could charitably have been called a whine, pushing the taller man with one hand lightly, “It’s much more fun to think of him as a great conqueror or hero; maybe a pirate who used his stolen treasure to buy this place, or an explorer who stumbled across the ancient shrine of --!”

 

“Thanks for your help,” Kagami cut him off, somewhat sarcastically, as he stepped away from the railing, starting to leave his current, rather informative but ultimately bothersome company. One thing he had learned from listening to their chatter was that this man Aomine was even more of an enigma than he’d originally thought, to the point where people had to come up with increasingly more outlandish explanations for his success in lieu of any actual facts. His chances of actually meeting the guy seemed to be dwindling even lower, then, and in light of that, he decided on giving the mission up for lost for now. Aomine had invited him personally, and lived right next door to him, but he supposed that didn’t really guarantee him an audience with him, or even the chance to see him in person, if no one else here was allowed to. What had led him to think he was so special, an exception, just because he had received a letter -- a mere handful of polite words, really -- from the mysterious man asking him to come to one of his parties?

 

On an impulse, he snatched a flute of champagne, then another, from one of the silver plates being toted around by what he could only assume were Aomine’s servants, throwing the first back almost without tasting it and feeling the bubbles shoot from his throat to his nose almost instantly. Covering a cough with one hand so he didn’t spray the drink everywhere, he leaned against the banister at the top of the stairway and sipped the other more slowly, simply observing the nearly ludicrous chaos that surrounded him and no longer trying to decipher it. Whenever another plate of cocktails or snifters or martini glasses passed by, he would almost unconsciously partake of it, the mess of disorderly, rambunctious strangers gradually becoming more pleasing to the eye, a spectacle more akin to a wildly expressive, abstract painting than a mob of increasingly vexing insanity and depravity. He looked out at the din and the collage of movement and saw life itself, in all its raw, tangled forms, instead of only the lowest dregs of humanity’s most primal urges. And though he stood entirely still, but for occasionally lifting a hand to drain another glass or shifting his weight from foot to foot, his gaze was in almost constant motion, taking in everything.

 

“Not a fan of the dance floor, I take it?” a low, husky voice asked from directly beside him. Tingling pleasantly from the alcohol slowly seeping into his system, Kagami didn’t even flinch.

 

“Not when it’s this packed,” he answered, glancing at the speaker distractedly, and then doing a double-take. He was tall; taller than Kagami, by a good inch or so, and dressed much the same as he was; in a plain, well-fitted black suit that drew attention to his strikingly dark skin, an indigo bow tie at his throat complementing his short navy hair and gleaming, stormy blue eyes. His devilishly handsome face was split in a careless grin, not as foolish as the bumbling, drunken folks gamboling around him, but full of some rare, sincere pleasure and assurance.

 

“Ah, I see. Crowds make you nervous, then? I quite enjoy them.” Leaning an arm against the railing, he seemed to survey the scene with an air of mild amusement, as if watching a play being acted out on stage. When he moved, Kagami caught the hard, dark flash of a single ring on the last finger of his left hand, the only visible jewelry he sported, unlike many of the guests who were decked out almost to the point of becoming eyesores.

 

“I wouldn’t say nervous,” Kagami shrugged, “I’d just rather not be around them, given the choice. Parties like this aren’t really my scene.” Swilling the half-empty cocktail in his hand, he met the man’s vibrant blue eyes for a moment, his own wavering slightly, not to the point of blurring or glazing over, but enough for him to notice the grip of intoxication taking hold, “I haven’t been able to locate this Aomine, either, with so many people...but I have heard some pretty crazy rumors about the guy. Some say he killed a king and robbed a prince; others say he doesn’t exist at all.”

 

He could have sworn the man smirked, his eyes brightening further as a spark of laughter came into them.

 

“Hm. I apologize, then,” he said slowly, releasing the railing and stepping out to look at Kagami, face to face. Kagami squinted at him in confusion. “It was rude of me to invite you here and then keep you waiting so long.” 

 

Kagami blinked, mouth falling open as what he said registered. He didn’t need to hear the rest, but the man went on after a beat, his smile persisting, though it was smaller now and more genuine.

 

“...I’m Aomine Daiki,” he said, holding out a slender, richly tanned hand to him, “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kagami.”

 

TBC

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((...I have no earthly idea where this is going. (Actually I do have a vague sort of plan, but straying from the source material and making this a separate, different story from the actual Gatsby is going to be more of a challenge than I thought). Anyhow, it's been awhile since I launched into a new, potentially lengthy fic like this, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. And being a pretty long-standing fan of the 20's era and the genre of electro swing, which made for some very nice background noise while writing this chapter, I figured I might as well give it a shot and hope for the best.  
> Comments and kudos give me life, and keep my stories going strong. Feed the author!))


	2. Chapter 2

Kagami knew he was staring, openly. Knew it was impolite, and knew his inability to avert his eyes was only making the man before him grow more amused, but for the life of him, he couldn’t help it. This man -- _this_ man -- was the legendary Aomine? This was the extravagantly, almost obscenely rich and well-renowned host who had supposedly conquered an empire...or at the very least played an entire city, and snatched an enormous fortune right out from under its nose? Kagami had pictured some pompous, ostentatiously dressed man in his fifties or older, with an adoring mistress on each arm, probably drunk off his ass like the rest of New York was that night. This man was none of those things. He seemed to be earnestly enjoying himself without the slightest taste of alcohol or carnal companionship, he was so casually, modestly dressed, so informal and -- lord in heaven -- so _young._ He couldn’t have been any older than Kagami himself was; in his late twenties, early thirties at the most. And there was a bright, almost innocently boyish light in his indigo eyes that made him look even younger.

 

“You- _you’re_ Aomine?” he stammered at last, unable to conceal his disbelief. In a rush, he realized that he hadn’t accepted the gesture of polite greeting Aomine had extended toward him, and hastily took his hand to shake it. The grip of that large, tan hand was firm and sure, and the exquisite warmth of it seemed to linger on Kagami’s skin even after he withdrew. “I’m sorry,” he hurried to say, all but tripping over himself and having a hard time sorting his words with the alcohol and shock in his system, “I just...I wasn’t expecting -- that is, you’re so…”

 

“I guess we both have something to learn of not going by appearances,” Aomine said smoothly, looking him up and down with a gaze that was critical, but almost friendly in its soft, casual intimacy, “You aren’t quite what I was expecting either, but here we are.” He spread his hands in an all-encompassing gesture, seeming to hold not just the surrounding beautiful chaos he had created, but the wild atmosphere of the night itself in his open embrace.

 

Fuzzily, Kagami wondered what that was supposed to mean.

 

Something occurred to him -- the reason he had sought to find the host of this colossal event in the first place -- which had completely escaped him in the shock of the moment. He was sure his current impediment slowing his thoughts and reasoning hadn’t helped with that at all.

 

“Why did you invite me?” he asked, searching those dark, open and yet strangely inscrutable eyes. Aomine started to raise one eyebrow, and he went on in a rush, “Why just me, I mean? Everyone else seems to have just showed up on their own tonight, what did you want with me to the point of sending for me specifically?”

 

Aomine looked at him for a moment; studying him, Kagami decided, before breaking into a pleased and terribly, frightfully gorgeous grin, his teeth flashing startling white against his skin, “I’m glad you asked.”

 

And without another word, with hardly more than a flick of his wrist inviting Kagami to follow, he turned and started down the stairway briskly, leaving Kagami to flounder and stumble to chase after him, having to shoulder past several dozen people that blatantly obstructed his path, and yet seemed to part like the goddamn Red Sea to let Aomine past. ...Well of course.

 

He kept his gaze trained resolutely on that head of striking navy hair, refusing to lose it as they were swallowed in the crowd...though he supposed both of them did stand head and shoulders over most of the guests here, so he shouldn’t have been too worried. Still, it had been too much of an ordeal to track the elusive host down to risk him vanishing again. As such, he was so focused that he hardly paid attention to where he was being led, until a wave of cool air washed over him, and he realized he was once again on the magnificent front steps that led up to the mansion, under the baleful gaze of the silver dollar moon and the sprinkling confetti of stars.

 

Taking in a lungful of clean night air, he shook his head quickly to clear it of the maddening entropy that emanated, wild and raucous as ever, from inside. Aomine, too, seemed to take a moment to just breathe in the calm stillness of the night that contrasted so starkly with the disorder he’d incited in it. And then he turned to face Kagami once again, slipping his hands in the pockets of his suit coat and seeming to rock back on his heels briefly.

 

“There. Now we don’t have to shout to hear each other, at least,” he remarked, with a flicker of that same amused, boyish grin, but this time it seemed tempered oddly with a faint strain of nerves. Kagami scrutinized him, as best he was able with the slight fuzzing of his vision and the sluggishness of his head, wondering if he’d imagined it. “If you’ll join me for a stroll through the garden, we’ll chat and I’ll explain what you’re here for, what do you say?”

 

Kagami shrugged, running a hand through the back of his hair to find it damp and disheveled with sweat, and attempted to offer a smile of his own, “Sure thing.”

 

Just like that, the grin was back full-force, seeming to brighten up Aomine’s entire face, and he shifted his weight over to one leg, turning his stance almost casual.  “Grand. Then come with me.”

 

Kagami had expected Aomine’s “garden” to be more of a jungle, crowded with exotic trees and boxwood shrubs shaped like animals and fragrant, flowering bushes of who-knew-what; maybe with live peacocks strutting about and a French limestone courtyard with an enormous sparkling fountain in the center of it all. What he hadn’t expected was what actually lay at the end of the meandering cobblestone path that Aomine led him down, around and toward the back of his gigantic house. There was a courtyard, yes, but it was nothing more than a rather nondescript flagstone circle, bordered by tall honeysuckle arches and intricate trellises of cerulean morning glories, currently shriveled closed for the night. All around them hung branches of pale blue lilacs and wisteria in full bloom, and Kagami thought he spotted a vineyard in the distance, though he doubted Aomine had any use for the grapes...or any grapes worth using. It was certainly fancy, and extravagant, but in contrast to the hysteria he’d seen Aomine was capable of cultivating in places, this one seemed calm and peaceful, almost delicate.

 

As he walked slowly around the rim of the stone circle, he glanced at the clumps of lavender, sage, and hyacinth creeping up to the edge, and smiled absently. “Kuroko would like this place,” he said to himself. It had been flitting idly in the back of his mind since he stepped under the sweet fringes of honeysuckle -- white, which happened to be his favorite, he remembered -- and when he glimpsed all the blue flowers, but now he realized it was almost uncanny how this garden seemed to be made with him in mind.

 

He almost laughed to himself at the coincidence, but then he saw how Aomine was standing; he’d suddenly gone rigid as a marble statue, and was staring at Kagami with some strange hope and disbelief on his sharp, expressive face.

 

“You think so?” he asked breathlessly; it was clear he was trying to sound casual, but any and all casualty was completely belied by the fact that he’d asked _breathlessly._ Kagami looked at him for a long moment, trying to understand that hushed tone of voice, and the warmth and trepidation that had come into his twilight eyes after he’d heard Kuroko’s… _Wait._

 

“You know Kuroko? Kuroko Tetsuya?” he shouldn’t have been surprised. After moving to the city he was beginning to have a hard time finding someone who _didn’t_ know Kuroko -- hell, he was convinced half the town was in love with him, and the other half just wouldn’t admit it -- but he’d thought, with all his mystery and illusion, Aomine at least might have been exempt, and Kuroko had never mentioned running across this man who was clearly famed and revered throughout most of New York.

 

A small, sad smile crossed Aomine’s face, and unlike the easy, boyish grin that made his face look remarkably youthful, this one made him look so, so much older than he was. Like he’d lived a hundred years in all the darkest, coldest places in the world, but could still remember a time when he’d seen and felt the sun’s rays, once upon a time.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, turning away and slowly starting to follow the garden path that wound between the weeping wisteria trees, “I knew Tetsu.”

 

Kagami jogged to catch up with him, falling into step beside him and trying to read his expression, not understanding his use of past-tense, nor the startlingly _familiar_ shortening of Kuroko’s name he’d employed. It sounded like Aomine not only knew Kuroko, but knew him well...and he wondered what about him had caused that aching, bleeding, bittersweet look to ever have a place on someone’s face. Especially someone like Aomine, who had seemed so laid-back and carefree up until that point.

 

“I should apologize to you in advance, Kagami,” he said after a moment, tipping his head back to look at the curtains of powder blue flowers that dangled above them, filling the air with their heavy, sweet perfume.

 

Kagami blinked at him, “For what?”

Aomine’s foot scuffed a loose pebble from the path, sending it skittering away as he continued to avoid Kagami’s gaze. An image of a small boy kicking rocks and sulking when he was caught in a lie came to Kagami’s mind, and he wasn’t sure whether to smirk teasingly or scowl at his evident immaturity.

 

“Well you see,” he murmured, toying with the ring on his little finger, addressing it as he spoke, “I only invited you here tonight as a sort of tool; not for the pleasure of your company -- though it has been pleasant -- but for a service you could provide.”

 

Kagami gave a laugh that was rather like a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I thought so.”

 

“Hah?” Aomine whipped around to look at him in blank surprise, struck dumb for a moment, before hurriedly trying to regain his composure, reaching up to adjust his bow tie and clearing his throat. “You thought so?” When Kagami didn’t answer for a moment, he pressed on, insistently, “Why did you come, then, if you thought you would be played?”

 

Kagami did smirk then, unable to help it, and faced him, bringing both of them to a stop in the middle of the path. “Call it curiosity.”

 

Aomine sniffed, “You know curiosity killed the --”

 

“Boredom, then,” Kagami interrupted, waving a hand, “I had nothing better to do than answer your summons, and I wanted to know…”

 

Aomine waited, after he trailed off, but eventually the faint frown that dented his forehead betrayed his impatience, “Wanted to know what?”

 

Kagami made a wide gesture that encompassed the garden and the house and everything in sight, “What all this is for. What the huge parties are for. Why everyone seems to know you and yet know _nothing_ about you.” He reached up and snagged a string of tiny blue blossoms, cradling it in the palm of his hand,  “Why you have a garden full of wisteria and white honeysuckle in your backyard and call Kuroko by that nickname…”

 

Aomine was silent a moment, and then nodded slowly, “Sounds like a serious case of curiosity to me.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Kagami pointed out, discarding the flowers and loosely crossing his arms.

 

“And if it isn’t satisfied?” Aomine prompted, raising a brow, “If you don’t find out all you want to know?”

 

Kagami lifted his shoulders slightly in a shrug, “Then I don’t suppose this tool will be providing you any service.”

 

Aomine laughed at that, tossing his head back to reveal the long, tanned column of his throat. His laughter was rich and dark and almost musical, and Kagami found himself briefly mourning when it ended.

 

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected,” he said, his deep blue eyes still dancing with mirth, “You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

 

Kagami shifted, “Not lately...why do you ask?”

 

“I already knew,” Aomine admitted swiftly, “But that curiosity of yours, that hunger to learn and know, that just about proved it.”

 

Kagami frowned, “Are you?”

 

“A writer?” Aomine grinned, already shaking his head, “No, not me, whatever would give you that idea?”

 

By degrees, Kagami’s eyes started to narrow, “...Just the way you talk.” And the way, sometimes, that formal, impersonal demeanor of his seemed to slip, as if it had been put there on purpose to cover up something else. Some deeper, rawer level of emotion. There was something there, and if it wasn’t an author persona, then it had to be something else.

 

“Well I may not write them,” Aomine said dismissively, redirecting his gaze once again, “But you could say I’m an inventor of many a good story. The one I have for you, though, is God’s truth, all the way through.”

 

“A story for me?” Kagami blinked, unsure if the skepticism that was descending on him was entirely merited. “What about?”

 

A slow, genuine and almost gentle smile transformed Aomine’s face, and when his eyes returned to Kagami’s they were shining.

 

“What,” he began, softly, “Or rather _who_...all this is for.”

 

TBC


End file.
